The fact that this wasn’t done during the hiring process seemed a little odd. Instead of performing her physical, or at least requesting her medical information, before she’d made the drive up to Virginia was a bit unusual. If it was so important that she’d been evaluated by a medical professional beforehand, you’d think that it would have been mentioned before now—but whatever.
To Rachel, it seemed that it was more important that she was evaluated by their medical professional staff.
But that was just reporter’s intuition.
It was Saturday, around noon, two days before classes began. She’d had minimal time to get her cabin unpacked and her closet filled. The Summer weather hadn’t quite passed, and she wasn’t required to “dress” like a teacher during her off hours, so Rachel had elected for a simple white tank and a flowing green overjacket to hide the spaghetti straps—they were still thin enough to violate the general dress code on-campus. She wore her hair up, still tired from the move.
She was a pretty woman, to which no one would disagree. She had to be camera-friendly in her line of work after all. Her real line of work. But for now, she supposed she could settle for being the hot teacher. That being said, anyone would feel a little self-conscious in her current predicament.
Stripped down to her lacy black bra and panties, her artificially tanned body standing out against the stark white and creamy yellow of the school’s infirmary.
It made her feel like she wasn’t supposed to be here—perhaps because she wasn’t. Not really. Not Rachel the Teacher—she was more than welcome. But Rachel the investigative, Yeng-tracking reporter… that was a different story.
Her nurse seemed nice enough, though. Not nice enough to let her guard down, but a generally benign woman who didn’t seem outwardly malicious.
Ms. Fukiyama was a tall, thin woman of Asian descent. She had long, silky hair and a somewhat round face. If she were in the position to be comforted, Rachel would have found her soothing voice and gentle mannerisms pleasant. But something about all this seemed… off.
“So.” Rachel said abruptly as her attendant calibrated the scale, “How long have you, uh… worked here?”
The woman smiled and looked over, tucking a stray lock of flowing ebony hair behind her ear.
“Oh, the same as you I’d suppose.” She said with a smile, “You’re a first-year teacher, right?”
“Right.” Rachel hesitated slightly, “First year teaching. I’m… kind of nervous.”
Ms. Fukiyama didn’t say anything. Just made a noise of affirmation that she had heard Rachel, but had nothing to add. She was much more interested in the reading of the scale. Which was Watanagashi brand, Rachel noted, and therefore a product of a Yeng subsidiary. She’d have to remember that.
“120 pounds.” Ms. Fukiyama said after a moment of calibration, “Perfect.”
“That seems a little high.” Rachel joked, “Sure I can’t slip you a twenty and take it back down to 110?”
Her nurse laughed—a little polite one. Rachel wondered how often she must hear that kind of comment around here…
“Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about that.” Shiro said with a smile, “But the good news is that you’re in perfect health. You’re right where you should be, weight-wise, and it doesn’t look like you need anything extra… at least as far as I’m concerned.”
In a way, Rachel was almost disappointed. Being an investigative reporter and all, she half-way expected to be told that she had some kind of crippling disease that only Yeng could cure. That seemed to be their MO, anyway. Peddling product on the young and impressionable students at this Academy…
And the nurses, it looks like, judging by all the medical equipment. A cursory glance of the little office told Rachel all she needed to know about where Buttercombe’s infirmary got its facilities from.
“I just need you to sign here.” Shiro handed Rachel a clipboard and a pen—it wrote in pink.
Rachel clicked the pen and lowered it down onto the medical waiver. Everything seemed right. Her height, weight, W, Brun., et cetera et cetera…
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